


There's No Safety in Desire

by SapphiraLua



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Crushes, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pining, Romance, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29676903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphiraLua/pseuds/SapphiraLua
Summary: "Noya couldn’t be taken care of, wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t know softness, didn’t know the quiet of fingers whispered across his cheek or smoothed through his hair. He knew slaps on the back, and throwing himself at the ground over and over until he felt like one brilliantly purple bruise.Noya’s liveliness made up for the uneasiness that there was always something to compensate for, when it came to himself. Stay quiet, and someone could dig too deep, too far into the anxiety that no one would like what they found in the fragile cavern of his chest.But Asahi made him soft and passive, got him agreeable and quiet. He pushed back against it, reluctant to be tamed, afraid to be cracked open. But Asahi seeped in through the cracks regardless.Asahi was different. For reasons that Noya hadn’t quite let himself fully come to terms with. For a creeping need to smooth the anxiety from Asahi’s face, and the itch to touch and explore and feel, and a laugh that sent butterflies crawling up Noya’s throat to choke him, Asahi was different."In which Nishinoya Yuu doesn't take care of himself. Luckily, someone else is there to do it instead.
Relationships: Azumane Asahi/Nishinoya Yuu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	There's No Safety in Desire

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to Volleyball Idiots I'll be your host

Noya woke up with a headache, which was never a good sign. 

Being so physically active had its perks, and one of the better ones was that he knew how to use his muscles properly, so he rarely strained himself in a way that left him REALLY hurting for more than a day or two. However, Noya wasn’t immune to the vicious pain that came after sleeping with his neck at a nearly ninety degree angle. It wasn’t good start to the day.

Noya sighed and tried to roll his shoulders and crack his neck, wincing at the flare of pain that shot through the right side of his head. He trudged through his morning routine, showering and brushing his teeth, dressing and gathering his belongings for school and practice. Every movement, every downward inclination of his head, was irritatingly sharp. He should really try to find some painkillers before he left for school.

The cabinet was, even more irritatingly, empty of all forms of painkillers. Noya groaned, dragging his hands down his face. It had been him that had taken the last of them, when he’d come home from a particularly rough practice that had left his knees feeling like he’d been kneeling on gravel for several days. He hadn’t asked his mother to get more and- he shot a look at the clock- he was running too late to stop anywhere to buy more. 

There was no way he could stay home from school. His parents would be irritated at him for missing for something “as small as a headache”, and he really didn’t want a lecture on how he needed to work on pushing through the pain because school was more important. And Noya wouldn’t consider missing volleyball even if someone had just hacked his legs off. 

There was nothing for it, then, except for maybe a wing and a prayer that the pain would resolve itself before he had to practice.

\------

It decidedly did NOT resolve itself before practice. 

All day, Noya’s headache had seemed to get worse specifically to spite him. Looking down at his schoolwork, carrying books for his homeroom teacher, even carrying his own school bag, it had all seemed to serve only to intensify how badly his head hurt. He couldn’t stomach more than a few bites of his lunch, and even those made his stomach turn. ‘Soldier on, soldier on,’ played on loop in his head. 

And now Noya was attempting to change for practice. He leaned down to pull his school pants off, and the throbbing in his head was so present, so all consuming, that it nearly knocked him off balance. He just barely kept his footing, doubled over, one hand grasping for anything to steady himself. It found something warmer than he’d expected, and he whipped his head around to find that he had his fingers wrapped in Asahi’s shirt, and the boy inside of said shirt was looking at him in alarm.

“Uh, Noya, wha-?” Asahi started.

“Damn I nearly died there,” Noya interrupted him brightly, biting the inside of his cheek at the pounding in his temple when he straightened back up, “Killed by my own pants. That woulda been pretty lame! Good thing you were there, huh, big guy?” he patted Asahi’s arm, hoping it’d make him flustered enough to distract him from asking any questions. He really was a mother hen, and if he found out that Noya was feeling poorly, there was no way he’d let him practice with the rest of them. And Noya would be damned before he sat out from a practice. Plus, being poked and prodded and fawned over made him uncomfortable. He wasn’t used to people worrying for his well-being, and he wasn’t about to let them start now. 

“Oh!” Asahi’s cheeks bloomed red and he shuffled his feet a little, and Noya was really a little proud at how well he could press his best friend’s buttons. Home free, then, Noya thought gleefully. But then Asahi’s eyes narrowed, and he cocked his head questioningly, “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” Noya flashed him a grin and a thumbs up, hoping to god that it didn’t look as strained as it felt. Those few bites of lunch might be coming back up soon. 

“You’re pale,” Asahi murmured, seemingly inspecting him in a way that made his skin prickle with nerves, “Are you getting sick?” He tried to press a hand to Noya’s forehead to feel for a fever, but Noya swatted it away. 

“I’m fine, jeeze! I just didn’t sleep great,” Noya grumbled, cheeks heating up despite himself, “If you mother me any harder I’m going to have to get you an apron.” 

“Fine, fine! Whatever you say,” Asahi relented, but Noya felt his eyes on him even until they left the locker room. 

It made him nervous. There was a duality to Noya. Something in him that loved to be the center of attention, and made him loud and blunt and brash. Something that adored praise and soaked up admiration. It loved when his teammates whooped and hollered and when his underclassmen called him senpai. It loved crowds, loved their cheering.

Then something skittish. Something nervous that shrunk away from quiet, focused attention. Something that refused to be coddled and feared indulgence, that made him uneasy with feeling vulnerable and open. It didn’t let him show weakness. Insisted that he stay loud and upbeat, that he quip and joke when he was the subject of concern. 

Noya couldn’t be taken care of, wouldn’t allow it. He didn’t know softness, didn’t know the quiet of fingers whispered across his cheek or smoothed through his hair. He knew slaps on the back, and throwing himself at the ground over and over until he felt like one brilliantly purple bruise. 

Noya’s liveliness made up for the uneasiness that there was always something to compensate for, when it came to himself. Stay quiet, and someone could dig too deep, too far into the anxiety that no one would like what they found in the fragile cavern of his chest. 

It kept the fear in check, the one that he might like it too much if someone reached in through the viscera to pull out his ribs and find his heart. 

Asahi, with his quiet concern and gentle hands and soft smiles, was close. Too close. Daichi and Suga knew when to back off, and the first years were easily deflected, but Asahi...

Asahi made him soft and passive, got him agreeable and quiet. He pushed back against it, reluctant to be tamed, afraid to be cracked open. But Asahi seeped in through the cracks regardless. 

Asahi was different. For reasons that Noya hadn’t quite let himself fully come to terms with. For a creeping need to smooth the anxiety from Asahi’s face, and the itch to touch and explore and feel, and a laugh that sent butterflies crawling up Noya’s throat to choke him, Asahi was different.

\------

The lights in the gym are so horrifically bright that Noya’s eyes try to instinctively snap close against their violent presence. Daichi’s voice is loud and booming, and Ukai’s is louder still. He barely comprehends the teams they want to divide into for their practice game. He shuffles over to the side of the net that he’s supposed to be on, and readies himself as much as he theoretically can for how much it hurts to even focus his eyes.

Throwing himself at the ground to catch receives hurts more than Noya had thought was reasonably possible. He’s barely hitting them, with how slowly his mind is working. Getting up takes longer and longer, and he doesn’t miss the way that Asahi is looking more and more antsy every time Noya skids across the gym floor. His stomach is rolling, and there’s a stabbing pain in both of his eyes. His ears are ringing and his legs are shaking and he’s so desperately frustrated that there are TEARS in his eyes. 

If the ball had come from anyone other than Kageyama, Noya is sure that he’d have been able to receive it. He’s expecting spikes from Hinata, and Tsukishima, and Takana. He hadn’t been watching Kageyama. 

He’s not expecting Kageyama’s wicked spike to crack him in his right shoulder, nor is he expecting it when back meets the ground. Noya sees stars. His head hadn’t hit the ground, muscle memory had taken care of that part for him, but it hurts like it had. He hears the team’s shouts, wants to spring up and laugh it off and maybe even compliment Kageyama on how good of a hit that had been. But instead, Asahi is squeaking to a halt beside him, crouched and looking so terrified that Noya feels a little guilty for even being on the court in the first place.

“Nishinoya! Yuu! Are you alright?” He helps Noya into a sitting position, hands flitting restlessly about his shoulders and his head as though he’s going to pull them away and find a gunshot wound. 

If Noya had been in any less pain, he might have been able to muster up a laugh at the absolutely devastated look on Kageyama’s face. He looks as though he’s just shot the pope in broad daylight. Hinata is patting him on the back helpfully. 

Daichi and Ukai are in front of him momentarily. 

“Alright kid?” Ukai asks, eyebrows furrowed.

Noya nods, “Yeah, sorry. I uh, got distracted. Won’t happen again.”

“Bullshit,” Daichi snorts, “You’ve looked like shit since you walked in. Asahi told me and Suga you nearly fell over in the locker room.”

Noya glares at Asahi, betrayed, and Asahi doesn’t even have the grace to look sheepish about it. Instead, he glares right back, and that makes Noya pause.

“Wanna tell us what’s up, kid?” Ukai says, and it’s not a question.

Noya drops his shoulders, sighing in defeat, “I have a headache,” he says lamely. 

“A headache,” Daichi repeats, confused, “Since when?” 

“Ah, this morning?” Noya admits.

“And did you take anything?” Ukai asks.

“I didn’t have anything,” Noya wants to defend himself, “I looked before I left for school.”

“And did you eat anything?” Daichi questions. 

“I had lunch!” Noya exclaims.

A glare from Daichi.

“I had... a few bites of lunch,” Noya mumbles.

“Uh huh,” Ukai tsks, gesturing upward, “And these lights?”

“Are.. bright?” Noya replies carefully, and then after a pause, “Like, really bright. Like they just installed industrial lightbulbs in here overnight.”

“Sounds like a migraine to me,” Ukai frowns, “Headache, upset stomach, sensitivity to light. The works.”

“That... makes sense, I guess,” Noya looks down at the ground between his knees. 

Suga hums sympathetically, “I get those sometimes. They’re horrible. I have no idea how you’re still on your feet, honestly,” he considers, “Well, not any more, I guess.”

“You didn’t think to say something? To anyone?” Daichi is using his angry dad voice now, “If I were a meaner captain I’d flick your forehead,”

“You are that mean of a captain,” Noya grumbles, earning a barely contained snort from Suga. 

“Hey!” Daichi says indignantly.

“Alright, enough,” Ukai shakes his head, “Go home, kid. You need to rest, and hopefully you’ll sleep this off.”

Noya is grateful, but can’t help being a little disappointed that he’s essentially being kicked out of practice. He’s not sure how he’s going to get home, seeing as the thought of walking makes him want to throw up.

“Can I take him?” Asahi asks quietly. He’s been remarkably silent through this entire conversation. He’s not looking at Noya, but he’s frowning, and that makes Noya uneasy. 

“Make sure he rests,” Ukai says pointedly.

Asahi nods, “Understood, coach.”

Daichi pulls Noya to his feet then, and he’s ashamed that he sways a bit. 

“Sorry, coach,” Noya mumbles, eyes fixed on the floor.

“Don’t be sorry,” Ukai tells him, “Just take care of yourself, and don’t even consider trying to play like this again.”

Noya shuffles his feet, feeling hot and embarrassed, and nods. It flares the ache in his head, and he feels like he deserves it. 

Asahi appears with their things. When had he left to get them? “Come on, let’s get you home.” 

Noya nods again, and then turns. “Don’t worry about it Kageyama,” he calls lightly, “I’m not mad!” 

“See!” Hinata shakes Kageyama’s arm, “I told you he wouldn’t be mad!”

Kageyama shakes him off, shooting him a glare that has no real menace behind it, “I’m sorry!”

Noya waves to the rest of the team, and is met with a chorus of “Feel better!” as a response.

He exits the gym with Asahi silently. Asahi turns around immediately once the door closes. “I’m carrying you,” he says.

“You’re-” Noya’s eyes widen, and then he winces, “You are NOT-”

“The hell I’m not,” Asahi bites out, and it makes Noya blink in surprise again. Asahi seems to deflate at the look on his face, “Look, I just... You scared me, okay?” He says, more gently than his earlier tone. “You’ve been walking around in pain all day, and getting hit like that couldn’t have helped. Just-” he sighs, “let me help you? Please?”

Asahi Azumane might have the most effective puppy dog eyes in the world. He manages to look way too cute for someone who’s over six feet tall and composed entirely of muscle. Noya thinks that Asahi could ask him for anything, and as long as he was looking at him like that, he’d say yes. What’s even more troubling is that Noya thinks Asahi might not even HAVE to look at him like that. He’d do anything Asahi asked regardless. 

That thought zips down his spine and heats his cheeks, and he finds himself nodding before he can think about all the reasons that letting Asahi carry him is a bad idea.

Asahi smiles, and that’s even worse, and then he’s kneeling down so that Noya can situate himself on his back. He does so with a startling lack of grace, wrapping his arms around Asahi’s neck and hooking his legs over Asashi’s hips. Asahi’s hands curl under his thighs, and they’re warm, and that does terrible things to Noya’s heart. Asahi stands, lifting Noya’s added weight as if it’s nothing to him. Normally, that alone would be enough to make Noya feel stupidly insecure about his stature in comparison to Asahi’s own, but Asahi has a way of making him feel secure even when he’s not trying. He doesn’t comment on Noya’s size, just makes little adjustments to carry Noya more comfortably.

“Light hurts,” Noya mumbles, “I’m going to fight the sun.”

Asahi huffs out a laugh, and Noya feels it in his whole body. He’s glad that Asahi can’t see his face, because it’s so red that it hurts. Asahi’s back is warm against Noya’s chest, and his hair tickles Noya’s cheek when he buries his forehead against Asahi’s shoulder to hide from the sunlight. Every breath expands Asasi’s shoulder blades against Noya’s chest, and he can feel the thrum of his heartbeat. 

He feels fidgety and embarrassed. 

It’s terribly distressing.

It’s possibly the nicest thing he’s ever felt in his life. 

Asahi makes a detour to a corner store. He crouches to let Noya off his back and asks him to wait outside for a moment while he runs in. He comes back out with a two bags, and Noya tilts his head in a question.

“It’s just painkillers, and some snacks and drinks,” he explains while he lets Noya climb onto his back again, “I wanted to make sure I had something for you to take for the pain. I think I have the stuff to make you dinner, but I wanted to have a backup in case.”

Noya buries his head in Asahi’s shoulder again. He doesn’t have the mental capability to deal with Asahi being so unrelentingly sweet right now. His head is still throbbing with every step, despite Asahi’s efforts to jostle him as little as possible. 

They reach Asahi’s house, and Noya makes a questioning noise. “Well, it’s closer. And I can cook for you here,” Asahi says sheepishly. “Daichi will kill me if I don’t make sure you eat,” he supplies quickly afterward, as though to save face.

No one is home. Asahi tells him no one will be until the next morning, as his parents tend to work night shifts.  
He ushers Noya into his room, which looks the same as the last time Noya was here. Though last time, Noya could see straight. 

“Here, just,” Asahi hands Noya his bag and then moves to root through his the back of his closet.

“You probably don’t have a change of clothes,” he says when he emerges, “These are kinda old, so they might fit.” He thrusts the clothes in his hand at Noya, face pink. 

He scurries out of the room then, mumbling about making something to eat.

Noya blinks down at the clothes in his hands, and then shrugs. It’s better than his sweaty practice clothes. He strips, shoving his clothes into his bag, and snorts when he puts the borrowed clothes on. He has to roll the black sweatpants twice at the bottom, and the red shirt nearly drowns him. 

He flops face down onto Asahi’s bed, groaning in pain and exhaustion. At this point, his headache is so frustrating that he’s weighing the pros and cons of going to drown himself in the toilet. He takes a deep breath, and abruptly freezes. Everything, EVERYTHING, smells like Asahi. His shirt, his pants, the sheets, the pillow.

He takes a moment to scream silently in his head, and then sets about forcing himself to relax. He’s been here dozens of times. He’s been in Asahi’s bed before. He’s kicked Asahi out of his own bed to sleep in it, in fact. What’s so different now?

‘What’s different now’, his brain helpfully supplies, ‘is that you’re wearing his clothes and he’s making you dinner and he’s like the largest dopiest cutest puppy you’ve ever met. And you’re wondering if he’ll hold you again or maybe if he’d take care of you even if you don’t get knocked on your ass by a spike.’

Noya hisses, slapping his hand against the bed in frustration. “Not going there,” he grunts.

“Hey,” comes Asahi’s quiet voice from behind him, “you alright? Sit up?”

Noya rolls over and drags himself into a vaguely seated position. Asahi presses a glass of water into one hand and two pills into the other. 

“Drink it all,” he says.

Noya does, and then there’s a bowl replacing the glass. The scent of ramen wafts up, steam floating across his face. It makes his mouth water, and Asahi doesn’t have to tell him before he starts slurping it down.

Asahi smiles, quiet and satisfied, and starts in on his own bowl. For a few minutes there’s nothing but the clinking of utensils against bowls as they eat. Asahi takes the bowl from him when he’s done and disappears out of the room again.

Noya sinks down against the pillow and rolls over to bury his face against it to block out the overhead light. He’s warm and full from the food, but the dull throbbing behind his eye has yet to subside. 

The light is flipped off a few moments later, and there’s the clink of a glass being set down on the desk beside Asahi’s bed. The darkness is immediately so much better. The only light in the room is what filters in through the window, soft and golden. 

“I brought you more water if you want it,” the bed dips as Asahi sits next to him. He worms his feet under the blanket.

“Thanks,” Noya grunts. “You can turn on the TV.”

“But the sound-” Asahi starts.

“Damnit, you had to leave practice for me,” Noya snaps, suddenly annoyed at Asahi’s seemingly unending selflessness, “You carried me all the way here and made me dinner. I’m not going to let you sit here and stare at the wall in silence.” It’s already do much. He’s done so much and it’s left Noya off balance. He’s sure that if his head were clearer, he’d be having a full blown freak out. 

“Okay, Noya,” Asahi agrees softly. The TV is flipped on a moment later, volume lowered to something that’s barely there. 

There are a few long minutes of silence between them, where Noya fidgets restlessly, trying to find any angle that makes his head throb even slightly less.

“Can I try something?” Asahi asks suddenly. “Just, something that I think might help?”

Noya groans, “At this point I’d cut off my right arm if it would help,”

Then there are fingers in his hair, and Nishinoya freezes. They thread through his hair, and nails scratching along his scalp, and it’s so intensely delightful, so blissful, that he nearly melts. He can’t help the sigh that drifts out of his throat. It’s like instant relief.

“Is that alright?” Asahi asks timidly, and his hand shakes in Noya’s hair.

“Yeah,” Noya murmurs, “That’s good. Great.”

Asahi’s hand slides down past his ear, to the nape of his neck, and scratches back up to the crown of his head. He alternates between scratching at Noya’s scalp and sliding his fingers though his hair. It makes his head fuzzy, his toes tingle with it. It’s like the ache behind his eyes vanishes. It’s incredible. He revels in it, curling into the blanket wrapped around him. He’s exhausted. He lets his eyes fall shut, relaxing for the first time in what feels like years.

Noya doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he wakes slowly. He’s warm, and comfortable. There’s a dull ache in his shoulder, but the vice of pain in his head has released.

Noya laughs, elated, and pops his head up, dislodging the hand that still threaded through his hair. “It’s gone!” He exclaims.

Asahi shrieks a little, phone flying out of his hand. He whips his head around to look at Noya, scandalized.

Noya shakes his shoulders, and then bounds off the bed, stretching his arms above his head. The room is much darker than when he’d fallen asleep. “Wow, what time is it?” He turns around in a circle, looking for a clock. “It’s so late!” He shouts when he finally spots the clock on Asahi’s desk. It was already after seven. “Why did you let me sleep for so long?”

“Well, you seemed like you needed it,” Asahi feels around for his phone where it had gotten lost in the blankets, “But your headache is gone?”

Noya rolls his neck, then his shoulders, “Yeah, it feels a lot better. Wow, I thought I was gonna die like that!”

Asahi chuckles, and watches him stretch. His gaze is warm and affectionate, and it makes Noya’s skin prickle. It's hard to have someone's gaze on him, and with Asahi, it seems to sit even more heavily on his skin. Like it means more, like what he's thinking is worth more.

"I should... Probably go..." Noya mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. 

"Oh," Asahi breathes, and Noya tries not to delude himself into thinking that there's disappointment in that, "Yeah, I'll walk you to the door." 

Noya grabs his bag and awkwardly follows Asahi to the door. 

He toes on his shoes, and Asahi opens the door for him. He hesitates, shuffling nervously from foot to foot. "Hey," he starts quietly, "Thanks. For all of this," he gestures vaguely into the air. 

Asahi smiles, looking pleased with himself, and that settles warmly in Noya's stomach. "Any time," he answers. 

Noya turns to leave, and Asahi catches his wrist. "I mean it," he says, and there's something in his eyes that Noya can't quite pick out. "I don't want to see you do this to yourself again," his hand slides down to Noya's, and squeezes, "It's okay to ask for help, Noya. I'll always be here."

Noya blushes up to his ears, and Asahi drops his hand, eyes wide, like he just realized what he'd done. 

"SEEYOUATPRACTICE" Asahi blurts, and then he slams the door in Noya's face. 

Noya blinks for a moment, presses his hands to his eyes, and turns to begin his walk home.

Later, laying in his bed and staring at the ceiling, Noya pushes his hand through his hair experimentally. It doesn't feel like it had when Asahi had done it. It feels remarkably like nothing. 

He imagines it, what it might feel like to have Asahi’s fingers threading through his hair without the vicious pounding in his temples. Thinks about his broad palms and long fingers. About laying his head on Asahi's chest, having his heartbeat under his ear instead of feeling it against his chest. He wants to find out. He wants Asahi to do it again. 

Noya tosses a pillow over his face, presses down, and screams.

**Author's Note:**

> This uhhhhhhh
> 
> Should continue. Sometime. Soon hopefully  
> Bless
> 
> Thank u for reading I love u


End file.
